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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713093">dressed down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding'>skaralding</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Forced Crossdressing, Light BDSM, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Slut Shaming, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:14:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasuke showing off his skimpy outfit to Itachi is supposed to be his final humiliation of the night. It is not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Sasuke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dressed down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by a <a href="https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/344797.html?thread=2004952029#cmt2004952029">Naruto prompt from FFA's post 1000 fest</a>, where a blind and injured Itachi somehow ends up in Sasuke and Sakura's closet years after the war, <em>and</em> also <a href="https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/437059.html?thread=2599770435#cmt2599770435">this 100 words thread</a> of skirt + spanking.</p><p>Finally reposting this here, after expanding it a bit :D. (extra nonsense note deleted at a later date &gt;.&gt;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you wearing? Can I see?”</p><p>Sasuke freezes for a moment, though it’s not like he couldn’t have expected that slightly wistful question. It’s been six whole months already; he should be used to it, used to the way Itachi always adds that second, qualifying question, leaving a gap for refusal.</p><p>(Surreal, how normal Itachi’s questions feel, when months ago, Sasuke was still only just coming to terms with the ever-burning knowledge that he would never see his brother again.)</p><p>“Of course you can see!” Sakura says, immediately. Sometimes, Sasuke can’t help but resent how accommodating she’s been to Itachi. She almost always greets him with a smile, even though she knows it’ll go unseen. Now, as she hurries towards the couch Itachi is sitting on, Sakura’s deliberately heavy footsteps and slight rustles aren’t the only changes in the way she walks. There’s a bounce in her stride, an eagerness that leaves Sasuke torn between irrational jealousy and perfectly rational dread. “Okay, I’m here. Guess.”</p><p>Today, it’s not Sakura’s usual over-helpfulness driving her to stand preening in front of Itachi; today’s the day Sasuke has to make good on a bet, and Sakura is definitely wringing as much as she can out of it, out of what he’s been forced to do.</p><p>(“It looks weird,” Sasuke said, while they were still upstairs and getting ready. He knew he was lying; Sakura’s arch glance told him she knew too, but was letting it slide out of malicious pity.)</p><p>“Hmm,” Itachi says, as he skims his left hand up and down Sakura’s side, pausing minutely over her sash. His movements are smooth, graceful arcs from start to finish, which is good. When Itachi first got here, moving without trembling was a trial for him. “Leaving early for a change?”</p><p>“Yep!” The sheer amount of enjoyment in that word sends a shudder down Sasuke’s spine. “Well, since we’re already dressed, and Sarada’s still with my parents…”</p><p>“Hn. The new dress? And,” Itachi’s hand slides back up to Sakura’s waist, fingering the sash, “the scarf I made?”</p><p>“Of course!” Initially, when Itachi took up knitting three months ago, Sakura was worried it would be too much strain for him, but she quickly came around when she realized Itachi wasn’t asking her opinion on colour and yarn selection for his first big project for no reason. “It goes really well with this colour. Nice contrast.”</p><p>“You bought the cream instead of the blue, then?”</p><p>“Yeah, the cream worked so well…”</p><p>“Are you done?” Sasuke knows the next few moments won’t feel any less embarrassing if he tries to hurry things along, but he can’t help himself. He wants this over with. “Here. Do me.”</p><p>Crowding in front of Itachi like this makes him uncomfortable, but Sakura refuses to budge an inch. In fact, she puts an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders and pulls him closer to the couch, as if she’s worried he’ll have second thoughts and try to escape.</p><p>His heart skips a beat when he first feels Itachi’s fingers brush over his bare stomach, just missing the lacy, scalloped hem of the blouse Sakura forced on him.</p><p>(“Of course you can’t wear a t-shirt with it,” Sakura said, scandalized, something like half an hour ago. “It has to be, you know, an <em>outfit</em>.”)</p><p>“Uh,” Itachi says, his fingers still on the move, trailing hesitantly down and to the left. His slight frown eases when he encounters the smooth fabric of the top of Sasuke’s skirt; it’s one of the standard hard-wearing synthetics used in ninja gear. He probably thinks Sasuke is wearing clingy leggings, which would be embarrassing in a different way, being way too revealing to wear without a tunic or something else to cover your hips. “That’s… interesting.”</p><p>Sasuke, mortified, cannot quite bring himself to do as Sakura suggested he should earlier on. <em>“Niisan,”</em> he can still hear her saying, her voice a breathy, mocking whisper, <em>“keep going… just a little lower…”</em></p><p>“So,” Itachi says, his right hand resting ominously at Sasuke’s waist, “I’m guessing you’re not wearing as much as usual.” His left hand reaches out, slowly, politely. A tremor goes through Sasuke through no fault of his own; Sakura’s shaking now from the force of her suppressed laughter, even as she forces Sasuke to turn inwards, presenting his bare right arm to Itachi’s hand. “Short sleeves?”</p><p>“Yes.” Sasuke knows he’s only making it worse by sounding so annoyed, but he can’t help himself. At the very least, Itachi’s right hand has come away from his waist, staving off his humiliation for one more moment. It’s surprisingly difficult not to shiver when Itachi’s fingers trail up the outside of his arm, slowing as they reach the shoulder. Which is of course also bare. “Can you just—”</p><p>“Don’t rush him,” Sakura scolds, and Sasuke shuts his mouth with a click. “Let him take his time.”</p><p>Itachi’s slight frown has returned. He rises a little from the couch even though he doesn’t need to, his right arm pulling back to help prop him up with the armrest as his left hand strokes a warm, steady line across Sasuke’s upper chest. Sasuke’s lacy tube top shifts with that motion, the material rubbing against his already hardened nipples. “This…”</p><p>Sasuke can’t even bear to breathe. The tube top feels tighter than it actually is; Sakura had to pin together the bottom hem in the back to make it stay in place. Knowing that a stray move could end in it shifting down to his stomach and baring his chest makes him feel strangely nervous.</p><p>“It’s for a costume party,” Sakura says, her bright voice perfectly steady now that she sees the approaching payoff for all her bullying and teasing. “Guess what he’s going as?”</p><p>“It’s not,” Sasuke starts to say, incensed at this particular twist, only to freeze again when Itachi’s hand dips down over his chest, grazing his left nipple purely by accident. “I’m not going as anything. It’s…” <em>one of her stupid bets,</em> he wants to say, only to trail off when he sees Sakura’s toothy grin and remembers one of said cursed bet’s conditions. <em>Damn it.</em> “I just felt like it.”</p><p>“Oh?” Itachi’s frown deepens. “You’re telling me you really want to go out like this?” Itachi’s hand slides around to Sasuke’s back, then all the way around again, deliberately caressing the bare skin of his tensing stomach. “Otouto, I’m just saying, with how thin these leggings are—”</p><p>“Don’t—!” Sasuke reaches down too late to stop his brother’s hand from touching his crotch. His shaking hand hovers above Itachi’s own, stilled hand for a moment; he’s too shocked by the heat of Itachi’s touch, by the way those fingers sink in between his thighs, straining against the stretchy material of the miniskirt.</p><p>This was what Sasuke was hoping wouldn’t happen. Itachi’s touch, as always, is delicate but precise. His hand doesn’t usually linger like this unless he’s confused about what he’s feeling. Which he clearly is, to be stroking his fingers in over Sasuke’s tucked, panty-covered cock.</p><p>“You even went this far?” Itachi’s tone is cool. This is as judgemental as he ever lets himself sound. “Well.”</p><p><em>Stop,</em> Sasuke wants to say, but his mouth won’t do more than part a fraction, letting out a low, hissing breath. Itachi’s fingers have finally moved down and away from his crotch, but they’re now feeling down the inside of the suspenders attached to the lacy garters Sasuke is wearing.</p><p>(“Again,” Sakura said, earlier, “you need the whole, you know, the whole setup. To really complete the outfit.” Which is why Sasuke is also reluctantly wearing a pair of long, silken black stockings.)</p><p>“Let me guess,” Itachi says, as his fingers dip into the top of Sasuke’s left stocking, “you’re planning to wear heels?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sasuke mumbles. Somehow, the fact that that false admission means the bet is complete doesn’t do anything for the tide of embarrassment he is currently drowning in. Sakura already took her fill of pictures before they came down, so he will never ever <em>ever</em> be able to live this down.</p><p>(Sakura’s many fervent promises never to show the pictures to Naruto or anyone else are worth about as much as Sarada’s own, lisping promises to stay away from a tempting sheaf of paperwork.)</p><p>“Surely you know how this must make you look,” Itachi says, his tone cooling further, even as his finger traces around the inside curve of Sasuke’s left thigh. “Are you disguised, at least?”</p><p>“I’m—”</p><p>“Lean down,” Itachi says, impatiently, and Sasuke finds himself bending forward for a moment, purely on instinct. Then, flushing—remembering he doesn’t have to go along with this any longer—he tries to straighten up, only to have Sakura’s arm forcing him down again. “You’re not even wearing makeup?”</p><p>There’s something strangely discomfiting about the way Itachi’s fingers sweep over Sasuke’s face. The light, yet slightly invasive pattern of the touch is familiar; the sweaty, musky scent on Itachi’s fingers is very much not. It is the same hand Itachi cupped against Sasuke’s crotch. It has to be. “Niisan, I’m not—”</p><p>“You’re dressed like a whore,” Itachi says, “with no makeup, no way to keep anyone from recognizing you, and you want to go out?”</p><p>Itachi’s voice is not loud, but the heavy disapproval in his tone feels worse to hear, almost as bad as the hoarse, wordless shout he sometimes lets out during a nightmare. Sasuke aches to defend himself, but none of the words rise past the lump in his throat.</p><p>He’s cross-dressed like this before, out of simple necessity. Well, that and because he liked the pained look on Karin’s face, and the way Suigetsu’s eyes would bulge upon seeing the result. Which is why he didn’t contest this nonsensical condition of Sakura’s bet very hard; he knows how jealous she gets over how much she missed of those weird little details in his life while he was on the run.</p><p>Sasuke will never admit it, but Sakura’s exaggerated admiration, her intense focus on choosing just the right set of clothes, her hungry, leering gaze as she watched him bend to pull the stockings into place… even as Sasuke scowled and rolled his eyes at her, he was enjoying it. Attracting her gaze is the one thing he’s effortlessly good at, the only thing that’s never changed. And now this side of it, this new, barely-there routine between them has been utterly ruined.</p><p>“Sakura,” Itachi says, his cold, unseeing gaze still fixed on Sasuke’s chest, “put him over my knee.”</p><p>Sasuke blinks, hard. He has only a moment to wonder if he misheard before Sakura muscles him forward, taking brutal advantage of his missing arm to pin him down into place over Itachi’s spread knees. There isn’t much of a struggle, half because Sasuke is all too aware of what might happen if they end up bumping against Itachi the wrong way, and half because he can’t quite believe what is happening.</p><p>Then Itachi’s hand—it has to be his, with Sakura’s hands busy gripping Sasuke’s tensing arm and the back of Sasuke’s neck—slides beneath the stretched bottom hem of Sasuke’s skirt. “Look at you,” he says, dragging the hem up, pulling on the soft, stretchy material, revealing every inch of Sasuke’s panty-clad ass. “Look at what you’re wearing.”</p><p>His cool, disgusted tone doesn’t match the way his hand gropes Sasuke’s bared skin, the way his fingers sink in under the sweaty cotton, digging into Sasuke’s cleft. When Itachi’s hand lifts away, Sasuke cannot keep from shuddering, only to flinch when it comes right back, digging in again until Sasuke’s panties are bunched up into his cleft, fully exposing his buttocks. “Niisan—”</p><p>“Count for me.” That is the only warning Sasuke gets, a warning he doesn’t understand until Itachi’s other hand comes down on the meat of his ass with a loud, painful smack. “Don’t make me say it again.”</p><p>“Ngh… hn—!” There are no words for the way Itachi’s hand works under Sasuke’s hips and into the straining front of his panties. Sasuke’s tuck was already in jeopardy; the heat of Itachi’s first, searching touch is all that it takes to make it fail entirely, leaving his dangling, half-hard cock open to a sudden, harsh squeeze. “I’ll count, I’ll—don’t—”</p><p>“You’d better.” Just like that, Itachi’s hand withdraws. Sasuke only has another breathless moment to prepare, to adjust how he’s lying over his brother’s lap, before Itachi’s hand comes down hard on him again.</p><p>“One,” Sasuke grits out. He hates how squeezed, how pathetic his voice sounds. He tries to steel himself for the next hit, only to flinch at the merciless weight of it, the <em>sting</em>. “T-two.”</p><p>Sakura’s breathing is even rougher than his own. It’s almost as if this is her doing, each hit the result of her own carefully moderated strength, meted out as justified, private punishment. “Three…” She’s always liked doing this kind of thing to him. “F-fu… four.” He can hear her licking her lips before the next strike, can feel her brushing against his side as she turns to look at his exposed, reddening ass. “Five.”</p><p>“Have you learned your lesson?” Itachi’s voice is slightly hoarse, the way it does these days during any physical activity, even when he isn’t really straining himself. That cold, accusing tone of his makes the hot, hard ridge of his cock pressing against Sasuke’s hip feel even more surreal. “Tell me.”</p><p>“I’ve learned,” Sasuke says, hastily. Breathlessly. “I’ve—I’ve definitely—I won’t, again.”</p><p>“Why don’t I believe you?” Itachi’s hand comes down heavily on his aching ass, not quite a slap, but not nothing either. “I can feel you, you know, when I do this. You’re enjoying it.”</p><p>Sasuke shudders. He can’t think when Itachi’s cupping him like that, fondling his abused, aching flesh. He doesn’t know what is wanted, whether Itachi’s strict, accusing tone means he’s supposed to admit or deny the sordid truth.</p><p>When he says nothing, Itachi sighs. “I can’t keep this up for much longer,” Itachi murmurs. “Not the way you deserve. Sakura?”</p><p>“Yes,” she breathes, ignoring Sasuke’s tense, involuntary shudder. “Let me.”</p><p>Sasuke whines in the back of his throat when Sakura starts moving him, dragging him down onto his hands and knees. Usually this is when there would be a struggle, because knowing what she likes to do to him has never meant him letting her have it easily. The very last time they did this, he blacked her eye and left bloodied tooth marks in her lower arm.</p><p>So this is even more unfair, more humiliating than usual. The most Sasuke can do to resist is try to roll or crawl away, and soon enough, Sakura has him where she wants him, his now half-exposed chest pressed between Itachi’s spread knees, his face inches away from Itachi’s crotch.</p><p>“Keep your ass up,” Sakura says, one hand shoving up the skirt hem again while the other squeezes his aching left cheek. “Like that. Nice and steady.” She doesn’t bother warning him against flinching, doesn’t threaten him with extra smacks if he fails to hold the position; she’s always preferred to hold him in place herself when he fails. “You’re so flushed here already. So red.”</p><p>Her first slap lands with no warning, right on the bottom of both cheeks. She follows it up with another stinging smack on his left cheek, and then one more on his right.</p><p>“Count,” Itachi reminds him remorselessly. “Honestly, otouto.”</p><p>“S-six, seven, eight, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… ngh!” Sasuke tries not to flinch too hard when Sakura seizes hold of his panties, wedging them deep into his cleft. He’s got nearly no room to move his upper body, not unless he wants to rest his head against either of Itachi’s thighs or, worse still, against the thick ridge of Itachi’s cloth-covered erection. “I—I won’t forget aga—nnh!”</p><p>“Oh?” Sakura sounds wickedly pleased with herself, and her small, calloused hand is spread wide over the curve of the aching cheek it just landed on. “What was that one, then?”</p><p>“Nine,” Sasuke gasps. “Nine. Please.” Then, soon after: “Ten. E-eleven.” His skin is prickling everywhere. His ass feels warm and heavy. The head of his cock is sandwiched between the much-abused top of his panties and his trembling stomach, sliding back and forth with every harsh smack. “Twelve.”</p><p>He knows where this is going.</p><p>“Th-thirteen. Fourtee—ngh—hgh…”</p><p>“Fourteen?” He can feel as much as hear Itachi’s low, hoarse voice; the twelfth stroke hurt so much that Sasuke couldn’t help but press his face against Itachi’s left thigh. “Do better.”</p><p>“Fifteen.” Sakura takes pity on him after that one, her fingers merely brushing over his stinging skin. On the fourteenth, she squeezed him with both hands, hard. “S-sixteen.” This time, he’s expecting the vicious squeeze. “Seventeen.”</p><p>Itachi’s wearing sweatpants, as usual—something Sasuke could barely believe the first time he saw it—so the material is plush against the side of Sasuke’s face. It also means he can smell just how much Itachi is enjoying this.</p><p>“Eighteen. Nngh—n-nineteen.” <em>Does he want to watch her with me?</em> “Twenty.” <em>Does he just want to watch her?</em> Sasuke swallows the pooling saliva in his mouth, hating himself for the surge of feverish jealousy he feels at the latter thought.</p><p>Itachi watching—feeling—both of them do it would be bearable. The other thing? Itachi’s unseeing gaze desperately trying to track Sakura, his hands returning again and again to her tiny breasts, her strong back, her tight, plump ass? Absolutely not.</p><p>But Itachi has been so nice to Sakura all this time. So clearly eager to please. It wouldn’t be surprising, if—</p><p>“Are you going to be good now?” Sakura says, her hands smoothing over his aching skin. “Hmm?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sasuke forces out. He hopes she takes his strangled tone as proof of how much pain he is in (a lot), and not how fixedly he is thinking of whether he’d be able to get away with murdering both her and Itachi if he ever discovers—if they ever dare to do anything without him. “Please stop hitting me.”</p><p>Sasuke cannot help but notice the brief tension in the thigh his head is leaning on. He doesn’t know how to feel about this new confirmation that his and Sakura’s careful layout of barrier seals are indeed proof against Itachi overhearing them while they’re doing it.</p><p>He knows how weak he sounds right now, how pathetic. It’s never made him feel this raw before, this horribly exposed. Sakura has a way of leaning in over him and testing her grip on his neck, his shoulder, his arm, all while he begs, her menacing strength making his pleas feel completely natural, but this time…</p><p>“What do you think?” she says, proudly. “Come, feel how much he’s leaked all over himself.” And then, before Sasuke can so much as moan in protest, she’s lifting him up with an arm around his waist, dangling him so his cock is right in front of his brother’s face. “Feel it.”</p><p>“No!” Jerking in her grip, struggling like this is useless, especially when he can’t afford the kind of wild contortions she usually lets him get away with. Itachi is too close. Itachi’s hands slide up the insides of Sasuke’s twitching, stocking-covered thighs, his fingers pausing at each damp spot he finds on Sasuke’s skin, on the thin, straining suspender straps, and then, finally—“Don’t, don’t look—”—finally, on the damp, twisted material of Sasuke’s panties. “Don’t…”</p><p>“Why not?” Itachi plucks at the sweaty skin of Sasuke’s ballsack, tugging it out from beneath the flimsy cover of the cotton. “You’re allowed to walk around like this, enjoying it so much that you stain your underwear, but I can’t even take a look?” He curls his hand around Sasuke’s cock, squeezing it gently for emphasis even as he pulls on it, drawing it away from Sasuke’s groin and then letting the tension of Sasuke’s panties pull it back to slap against Sasuke’s stomach. “You’re too much, otouto.”</p><p>“He used to do this kind of thing with that team of his,” Sakura says, her breaths coming hard and fast against the back of Sasuke’s shoulder. He realizes, then, why she isn’t the one fondling him; she’s too busy fingering herself. “I bet he let them watch.”</p><p>“You’re lying,” Sasuke gasps, but it’s too late. Itachi’s expression is terrifyingly blank, and the next teasing squeeze is almost too hard to be pleasurable. “Niisan, she’s—”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“But—hgh!” Suddenly, Itachi’s hand is ruthlessly tight around Sasuke’s neck, strangling his protest into a shocked whine. “Nnnh—”</p><p>“Help me move him,” Itachi says, even as he straightens up onto his feet, maintaining such steady, choking pressure on Sasuke’s neck that it is unclear whether he needs any such help. “The couch.”</p><p>Sakura’s naughty giggle is all Sasuke can hear for a moment. Then she sends a jab of chakra in at both his knees, stilling his flailing legs just like that. Soon, he is laid out on the couch on his back, and his panties are being pointedly dragged down to constrain his thighs. “Do you mind if I take his dick?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Itachi says. “You’re his wife. It’s your right.” He is already rolling down his sweatpants, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs with one smooth, easy motion. “Open up, Sasuke. Open your mouth.”</p><p>Sasuke doesn’t know why he still feels so lightheaded. Itachi let go of his neck several moments ago. This—this isn’t what he expected. Itachi and Sakura settle into place on top of him as if they’ve been practicing it, Sakura astride his thighs, Itachi kneeling just above his shoulders.</p><p>“Hm,” Itachi murmurs, his fingers ghosting over Sasuke’s parted lips. “This will be awkward.” That doesn’t stop him from shifting forward and bearing down, forcing his thick, leaking cock into Sasuke’s mouth. “Surely you can do better than that, otouto. I’m not that big.”</p><p>The angle is working against them, though. A cunt is easier to lick like this; Sasuke has done that before, over and over and over. This is different. He’s never—he doesn’t know how to manage his teeth. He can taste—smell—</p><p>“Mmm,” Itachi murmurs, rocking forward, and suddenly Sasuke is at his limit, gulping and sucking and thrusting up into Sakura’s familiar, slick heat. He moans around the cock in his mouth, unable to believe what he’s doing, even as he revels in it. “That’s better.”</p><p>“This is no good,” Sakura says, unsteadily. “You’ve got him—ugh.” Her hand strokes up over Sasuke’s tensing stomach. “I knew you wanted his dick. I knew it.”</p><p>“Nhn…” Sasuke can hear himself, can hear his useless, whorish attempt at denial. That, more than anything, is what tips him over the edge, sending him arching up into Sakura’s slick cunt with a choked, needy grunt.</p><p>“Already?” Itachi rasps. “Shit.” Naturally, he doesn’t do the gentlemanly thing and pull back to give Sasuke a moment to breathe. He leans in, thrusting deep into Sasuke’s mouth. “Ngh…” He doesn’t say anything else, but his feverish, breathless pace and guttural grunts do all the speaking for him. It’s clear he thinks Sasuke can take it.</p><p>When he finally comes with a satisfied gasp, Sasuke doesn’t have to be told to try to swallow. Itachi’s fingers trace the stretched outline of his mouth, rubbing in the spilled traces of saliva and come.</p><p>“My turn,” Sakura says, gloatingly, and soon enough Sasuke is hard at work between her thighs, his tongue as far inside her as he can get it. Licking his own come out of her feels even better when he’s doing it with his head settled back against Itachi’s thighs. Itachi’s hands are on them, between them, stroking along the underside of Sasuke’s aching jaw one moment, then grabbing a handful of Sakura’s flexing ass in the next.</p><p>Sasuke is still jealous, but what he’s jealous of keeps changing. He’s annoyed that Sakura’s body blocks him from seeing just what Itachi does that makes her cunt clench around his tongue. <em>It should be me making her do that,</em> he thinks, resentfully, only to forget it all when her hands fist in his hair, forcing him closer to her. He’s the only one whose face is slick with her juices, he thinks then, smugly. He’s the only one sucking and nipping on her swollen clit.</p><p>Her sharp, needy cry is the same as always, a sob underlying it all, his and only his… until it’s abruptly muffled, probably by Itachi’s mouth. Thrilled despite himself—Sasuke knows just how hard it is to shut her up during this—Sasuke can’t help but suck harder, curling his tongue inside her.</p><p>Sometimes, if he does it just right, Sakura wilts on top of him, and a little more focused attention will get her squirting all over him. She doesn’t often lose control like that; she always complains about the mess afterwards, even while she’s cuddling him. The sticky, sweaty feeling of her refusing to let him go is probably a weird thing to find special, but it’s still something he likes, something he now desperately wants.</p><p>This isn’t normal, after all, this thing they’re doing with Itachi. Good as it feels—and it is good, Sakura is getting close again, trembling around and against him, rocking against his mouth—things aren’t going to go back to normal between them, afterwards. There will be a reckoning.</p><p>“Oh,” Sakura says, her voice strangled but clear. “Oh <em>fuck</em>.” Sasuke promptly withdraws his tongue, moving in to suck on her clit instead. As expected, she only slicks his lips a little with her final orgasm, but her loud, approving moans make up for it.</p><p>(He’s never going to get enough of pleasing her.)</p><p>Funnily enough, things don’t get cripplingly awkward until they’re all upstairs and not-quite-arguing about who should use the bath first. Or, more correctly, who should be made to go first. Itachi’s lips are pursed because they both overruled him as always, and because the walk upstairs left him wheezing a little. Sakura keeps looking at Sasuke, her gaze all but screaming ‘fix it!’, as if anything Sasuke has ever done to try and make his brother feel like less of a burden has ever worked.</p><p>“Okay, fine, you know what?” Sasuke snaps, after another silent round of looks. “Let’s all go in!”</p><p>“Wait,” Sakura says, reaching towards the both of them, then pausing when Sasuke shoulders open the bathroom door and drags Itachi in after him. Sasuke knows how petty he is for feeling this familiar surge of satisfaction at how easily he can manhandle his brother’s once-solid, unmoveable frame. Maybe Itachi can sense that; Itachi rarely fails to balk at moments like this. The fact that he’s going along with it this time just means that he’s even more upset than usual. “Look, we won’t all fit—”</p><p>“Sure we will,” Sasuke said, now dragging, okay, barely shifting Sakura another stubborn inch into the bathroom. “It’ll be crowded while we’re undressing, but after that—”</p><p>“I haven’t needed to be watched in here for months,” Itachi says, coldly. “I don’t need you in here now.”</p><p>“Deal with it,” Sasuke says, flushing when he realizes Sakura echoed him. Itachi doesn’t quite sneer at the two of them—he probably thinks it’s too impolite—but he looks very much as if he wishes he could. “Start showering.”</p><p>Itachi surveys him coolly for one long, deliberate moment, before starting to strip off his sweaty t-shirt. Just as Sasuke can no longer restrain an unholy urge to ask just what he thinks he’s looking at, Sakura lets out an obvious, badly muffled snicker.</p><p>Sasuke knows he should ignore her. He knows no good could possibly come of asking her anything, and yet… “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>“It’s only,” she says, her voice shaky with suppressed mirth, “you know, of the three of us, you’re kind of the one who most needs a bath.” And then she starts snickering openly, barely attempting to dodge when he tries to kick her, her laughter getting louder and louder with each hit.</p><p>“Can you not?” Itachi asks, so politely that it makes the both of them freeze. “I’m trying to shower.”</p><p>Silence falls, a thick, horribly awkward one broken by the muted hiss of the shower and the quiet shuffling of Sakura peeling out of her dress. Now, Itachi is brooding quietly, Sakura is ducking her head and trying not to be a nuisance, and Sasuke is back to his first impulse at times like this: freezing inside while pretending everything is totally fine on the surface.</p><p>It’s so horrible that Sasuke finds himself inching toward where Itachi is standing under the spray. Awkward flirting always works on Sakura, so even though Itachi is definitely, <em>definitely</em> not Sakura, it feels as if it might—okay, it probably won’t work, but at least it’ll get a response. At least it’ll be something other than this awful silence. “Hey. Look at me.”</p><p>Sasuke knows almost immediately that that was the wrong thing to say. Even if he didn’t, either Sakura’s muttered oath or the brief, unseeing glance Itachi directed at his shoulder would be enough to clue him in. “Uh. I mean…”</p><p>Silence settles in around them again. “What,” Itachi says, now facing the spray again, “you want to join me?” His freezing undertone somehow manages to imply the only reason Sasuke will say yes is if he wants to do so to keep Itachi from hurting himself. “Go ahead.”</p><p>Sasuke can’t think of anything to say that will help. So he steps forward and hugs Itachi’s waist, carefully at first, then as hard as he dares. He knows he’s on the right track when he feels Sakura come up behind them, her left arm winding around Sasuke’s waist even as she stretches and contorts herself until she’s wedged her upper body under Itachi’s unwilling right arm. “What,” Sasuke says, “were you feeling left out?”</p><p>That’s not precisely the right thing to say either, but it passes easily, with a sideways glance from Itachi and an exaggerated scowl from Sakura. Who then lifts the mood even more by saying: “Yes. We both were.” And then winding her arms and legs all around Itachi’s until Sasuke has to prop the both of them up to keep them from falling over.</p><p>That night, they all end up in Itachi’s bed in the guest room downstairs, the same way they’ve been doing over the last few months. Except, instead of one of them sleeping beside him while the other keeps an eye on his vitals, they both climb in on either side of him and weather his slight, disapproving frown for the rest of the time he’s awake.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you thought &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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